


That is my home of love

by Nary



Category: Benjamin January Mysteries - Barbara Hambly
Genre: Angst, Commitment, Families of Choice, Forbidden Love, Hiding your feelings with poetry, Home, Multi, Not very successfully, Polyamory, Secret Relationship, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 09:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20444615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: Hannibal might seem like a man content to go where the current takes him - drifting aimlessly from one sordid rented room to another, from one evening's work as a hired musician to the next, from partner to whichever bed-mate will accept him on any given night.  Wandering from Ireland to France to America, and to other places in between that he's never revealed.  But for all that his life has been tempest-tossed, he has an anchor now, in the persons of Benjamin and Rose Janvier.





	That is my home of love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brigdh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brigdh/gifts).

> I'm sorry this took so long, and I hope you enjoy it! <3

Hannibal might seem like a man content to go where the current takes him - drifting aimlessly from one sordid rented room to another, from one evening's work as a hired musician to the next, from partner to whichever bed-mate will accept him on any given night. Wandering from Ireland to France to America, and to other places in between that he's never revealed. But for all that his life has been tempest-tossed, he has an anchor now, in the persons of Benjamin and Rose Janvier. They steady him, root him in place. Would he still be in New Orleans if not for them? He thinks it likely he would not. Then again, he might well be dead were it not for them, for innumerable reasons ranging from consumption to drink to murder. 

For the first time in a long while, he doesn't have even a half-formed plan at the back of his mind of how he would leave if he had to (not that some of his previous exits deserved the appellation of 'planned'). It worries him, that lack of an escape route. But each time he tries to consider his options, the ideas fly away from him like pigeons scattering from a cat. Where would he go? What would he do? The idea of being anywhere except close to them is unbearable, and so he pushes the thoughts of departure aside. 

Ben and Rose are good to him - better than he deserves, certainly. And they have offered more than once to bring him into their home, into their family, and to hell with the consequences. Hannibal cannot subject them to that. Even if the color of his skin were no issue (which is certainly not the case, he being somewhere in the vicinity of milk-white in contrast with their darker shades of brown), he knows what kind of husband he is, and what kind of father too. Knowing that, how could he expect to serve them any better as a partner, or a surrogate uncle to their children? It would be better for everyone if they didn't come to depend on him as a permanent member of their household. 

And yet, there are many nights when he lingers by the door, not wanting to go just yet, hoping for an excuse to stay behind a little longer. He doesn't need an excuse - he could simply walk over to the chair in the corner and sit down again, and they wouldn't question his decision. But when Ben suggests playing one more tune, or Rose asks for his opinion on a matter of Latin grammar, it's easier to be drawn back into that warm circle of affection and pretend he belongs there. And if, after the children are asleep, they ask him to stay a little longer still, to come to their bed where they will hold him close and ply him with zealous kisses, as seals to the indenture of their love, how can he refuse? He is (or at least believes himself to be) a weak man at his core, and willpower has never been his forte.

He can give this much to them for a little while - be their lover, when he's invited to stay. Be a companion when he doesn't feel like he's an interloper. They've given him so much, and he can offer them his music and his mind and his body, although it doesn't seem like nearly enough to repay them. 

Sometimes after everyone else in the house is asleep, though, and Hannibal is nestled drowsily in between Rose and Ben, he allows himself to dream. He imagines not inching his way out of the bed and sneaking away before the sun comes up. Staying until morning, lingering in bed with them until the children wake, and then getting up to share breakfast with the family. He imagines saying certain words out loud - telling them that they are his family, that they mean everything in the world to him, that he never wants to leave. 

That he loves them. 

It's a pleasant dream, one he can only entertain when his defenses are lowered and he's on the verge of sleep. In practice, he dozes for an hour or two, and then slips out from between them, dresses without making a sound, gathers his fiddle and leaves. If Ben wakes up at any point during this process, he'll usually go with Hannibal to the door and let him out so he can latch the door behind him. He never presses him to stay, but tells him to walk safely, which is Ben's version of saying he loves him, given the dangers that lurk in the darkened streets of New Orleans. 

"I will, _amicus meus_," Hannibal promises him, which is his way of saying he loves him too. Couching the terms in Latin is as close as he can bring himself, at any rate. 

"Will you come back tomorrow?" Ben asks.

"If I have ranged, like him that travels, I return again," Hannibal replies with a gentle smile. His knowledge of poetry is vast and encyclopedic, but he trusts that Ben will recognize the relevant sonnet and be able to piece together Hannibal's meaning from the scraps of other people's words he cloaks himself in. He hopes that borrowing from the bard will be sufficient, since he can't summon the right words of his own. Then, alone, he sets off into the dark, hoping that he isn't lying.

~~~

_O! never say that I was false of heart,_  
Though absence seemed my flame to qualify.  
As easy might I from myself depart  
As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie:  
That is my home of love; if I have ranged,  
Like him that travels, I return again,  
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,  
So that myself bring water for my stain.  
Never believe, though in my nature reigned  
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,  
That it could so preposterously be stained,  
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good;  
For nothing this wide universe I call,  
Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [naryrising](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/naryrising) if you want to ask questions, make requests, or chat!


End file.
